


Emblematic

by Confuzledsheep



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Its all a dream buddy, M/M, RIP Lancelot, Religion Referances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 21:12:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17815604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Confuzledsheep/pseuds/Confuzledsheep
Summary: Despite his growth into full-fledged adulthood he could not shake the embarrassing feelings and desires of the young man who once walked these halls. The boy who believed in mercy and divine favor.He could not bring himself to kill the boy. He could not bring himself to strangle the last part of himself that seemed to remain. As he removed the gifted armour from his body he could not stop the sickening feeling within him. The fact he knew what his descent into sleep would entail.And the fact that he would likely enjoy every moment of it.





	Emblematic

**Author's Note:**

> Oof. I have. Very little clue as to why I wrote this........... I think Sieg and Lancelot's potential Dynamic is just.... Very good.........................
> 
> Note that the whole dream sequence has little to no basis in the canon that has been presented in gbf. This work is supposed to be entirely narrated in the perspective of Lancelot, and his ideas and suspicions ring clear in this. I apologize if this has caused some confusion, and I will absolutely try my best to clear stuff up if you have questions!

In the beginning, the land was barren. 

Then the blood of the sky dragon fell upon the lands, and from its nourishment the plants began to flourish, and from the clots the mountains were formed. 

The world was filled with all that was living and the rains rolled into the skies above and sent thunder and the tears of the dead upon the land.

That was what Lancelot was told, anyway.

But the world was vastly different- the world did not work in the ways science or magic dictated or the petty laws of faith and Gnosticism. 

Choirs of empty voices- not a few pitches away from wails- filled halls of pews and glass that mocked him. There was no reality between those white walls. The floors were too pristine, they had never seen blood. Not the blood of gods, and not the blood of man.

Perhaps he looked like one of the walls now- bright panels of glass dying the walls like pigmented water. The dulled and flowing colors of his armour bore a striking resemblance.

You cannot escape the eye of god.

Long illuminations from open halls painted the stone the colors of the sunset. Golds and fiery reds bleeding into each other, ushering in the darkness of the night.

Sunsets reminded him of Vane. 

A long exhale, lashes fluttering in the quickly chilling evening air. He was tired- the long days of training were followed by hours of paperwork quick on his heels. Managing it was a nightmare when he was the only one left to do it all. 

There was no mercy for him. No room for errors. The defense of Feendrache rested upon his shoulders- which only years ago were much too frail for such a weight.

He was hardly a man when Siegfried vanished and the late king died. He was hardly a boy when the power was thrust upon him like a cursed mantle. He wore a crown, so to speak, that was far too big for his own head, falling from his temple and covering his eyes.

Taking his gloves from his weary hands, he opened the door to his chambers. The warmth greatly surprised him, but was also immensely comforting. He would need to leave some coins for the chambermaid- Ruth, that was her name.

A raise would most definitely be in order for her, especially considering the state if his bedspread within recent weeks. 

Despite his growth into full-fledged adulthood he could not shake the embarrassing feelings and desires of the young man who once walked these halls. The boy who believed in mercy and divine favor. 

He could not bring himself to kill the boy. He could not bring himself to strangle the last part of himself that seemed to remain. As he removed the gifted armour from his body he could not stop the sickening feeling within him. The fact he knew what his descent into sleep would entail.

And the fact that he would likely enjoy every moment of it.

Throwing his clothes in a pile by the dresser chests, he put on his smallclothes and bed shirt, pulling up the heavy wools and furs before blowing the candles out.

His mind was fading before his head hit the pillow.

Darkness always spiraled around him in his dreams. The feeling of being crushed by the blankets brought comfort, but were a likely cause of the dreams that haunted him when the sun rose. 

It always started with him peeling his eyes open, like he was to witness a new day. Often it was dawn in these dreams, and someone would be lying next to him. Sometimes it was some random woman he had seen before, but her face and body would be quickly erased, quickly replaced. 

Always with the same man. Without fail, the frail and fickle bodies fell away, leaving room for slightly tangled hair, marred skin, valleys and mountains of muscle. 

It was always Siegfried.

A fancy of adolescence, haunting him every night like a sick manipulation. Who else did his fragile, needy heart have to turn to? Vane was a dependable man, but they were practically brothers- and his eyes wandered to red like a moth to an arrogant, aloof flame.

Large warm hands would touch him- like they did now. He knew it was not reality, but he could pretend, couldn't he?

“Ah, you've awoken.”

Siegfried's voice was always the same, always perfect. It spoke to him with such love, such pride.

“Good morning, Sir Siegfried…”

“Good evening, and just Siegfried is fine.”

He swallowed. Of course he overslept or something- there had to be context for this he would learn in just moments.

“Sorry… Siegfried…”

“Has your fever receded?”

Ah, so he was sick. “I believe so…”

A hand was pressed to his temples. “I agree. Good, it would be bad to have you incapacitated during this time of year.”

“You need every soldier you have in the wintertime…” Lancelot noted, watching as Siegfried walked to the window.

“Most especially now- Vane and Percival have not sent word since their arrival in Wales. We are assuming the winds are preventing them from sending the Imperial Roc. Although it is worrying.”

“Are you worried, sir?” He asked, sitting up as Siegfried stared out the window into the vast plains of snow. 

“...Yes. Although having at least one of my generals puts me at ease. We cannot lose you.”

“I will stay in good health Sir.”

“...I cannot afford to lose you.”

“I understand sir- I did finish all the papers His Majesty requested me to.”

“King Josef commanded you to do so?”

He nodded, bare feet touching the rug- which hardly kept the icy floors from biting into his feet. “He did indeed.”

Siegfried grunted. He looked… different, in this dream. His hair was still loose, slightly less tangled than usual. He was not wearing the armour of the dragonslayer, instead in some ensemble of dark wool and a massive black cape- looking to be made of bear fur. He was imposing- a very different air to him than the Siegfried he knew in his own reality.  

“Well. If there is anything else you demand of me, I am willing to do it.”

A laugh took him aback. “Dear Lancelot, you should know what I desire by now.”

“I-i don't think I understand, my apologies-”

Turning on his heels, Siegfried now looked even more intimidating- looking down at Lancelot as he closed the space between them. “No no, it's adorable.” He insisted, taking a pale hand and bringing it to his lips. “You never fail to amuse me.”

His heart kicked into gear, pulse thundering in his ears as Siegfried took another step closer, hand tilting up his chin, faces growing closer-

This was wrong- he shouldn't be indulging in such disgusting, unholy fantasies- and yet, they just kept coming. They kept being so  _ satisfying.  _

Timid tongue exploring over sharp teeth, the texture of Siegfried's lips, large gloved hands pulling him closer- how could he deny himself such a pleasure? How could such a beautiful thing be the work of some demon within him? Such a thing could only be created by God themselves, he was sure.

Pulling apart for breath, Lancelot felt like a clueless teenager again. He always felt so small beneath Siegfried- but it was always safe to feel that way. Siegfried himself just made Lancelot feel  _ safe.  _

“S-Siegfried…”

“Yes, Lancelot?”

“What do you want me too… Do?”

He seemed lost in thought for a moment, thumb idly brushing his cheek. “Hmm… A good question indeed…”

An embarrassing rumble filled the silence. Lancelot almost wished to stab his own stomach in a valiant attempt to silence it. 

“Ah, you have not eaten all day, have you?”

Shaking his head, Lancelot was flushed with embarrassment. 

“Do not fear, I have brought some food with me.” Siegfried assured, motioning to the desk, where a covered tray sat upon piles of papers. 

Just the  _ thought  _ of a good meal made his mouth water- he had been skipping meals in his own reality much too often- often enough to make the idea of food in his dreams remarkably appealing. 

“Sit, I will bring it to you.” Siegfried commanded, grabbing the tray and bringing it to the bed.

He obeyed, sitting in the crumbled blankets. “What did you bring me?”

“Roasted meats, the last of the winter vegetables, and potatoes- and if you can digest those things, I brought honey cake.”

Siegfried may as well have just married him right then and there- the honey cake sounded absolutely  _ divine _ at that moment. 

A hand pressed to his forehead again.

“I feel fine now Siegfried- just hungry, that's all…”

“You are trembling, like you have the chills.”

“I haven't eaten all day!”

Grunting, Siegfried grabbed the fork, stabbing a piece of stewed meat. “Open up.”

Well this was just insulting. Or was it? Lancelot obeyed, savoring the spices used to mask the flavor of potential rot. He opened his mouth once again to accept the second bite.

Siegfried continued to feed him, thumb wiping some sauce from the side if his mouth. 

“I think I can eat on my own now…”

“I would prefer not to risk it.”

Lancelot huffed, pouting slightly as he ate another bite. Acting like a spoiled child would be unacceptable while he was awake, but he could justify it here. He could actually act like a human being while he was dreaming- which was truly saying something about the state of affairs.

“What are you smiling at?” He asked, seeing the edges of Siegfried's lips turn up.

“You're quite cute when you're trying to act mad. Like a cat, almost.”

He ate another bite, Siegfried continuing to bring the fork to his lips. “I fail to think I'm that ‘cute’...” 

“I disagree. You're quite cute.”

“I'm a co-commander! I can't afford to be ‘cute’!”

“Around your men you cannot- around me, however… you can behave however you please.”

His cheeks were suddenly red again- he must have slept with Siegfried before in this dream… “I can't have any form of emotion around them…”

“You can, and you do have emotions around them- no one wishes to rally upon an empty shell.” Siegfried said, giving him the last bite of potatoes. “I enjoy the luxury of seeing the full range of those emotions.”

Lancelot reached to grab the fork from his hands, eyeing the sizeable slice of honey cake.

“Not yet, dearest.”

“Why not?!”

“I brought warmed mead to accompany it- although they may have lost some heat.” He said, grabbing the two covered tankards from the desk and bringing them to the bed. Lancelot eagerly took them- a warm drink was just what he needed.

Even in a dream, the taste and feeling was so vivid in his mind it was as though he was truly drinking it, choking down eager gulps as the warmth spread through his stomach. 

“I knew you would enjoy it.” Siegfried noted, bringing the fork down upon the fluffy cake, balancing a piece on the prongs of the fork. “Now have some.”

Lancelot eagerly ate it, groaning as he was able to enjoy the perfect texture and the wonderful sweetness. Siegfried kept feeding him slices, and he sipped his mead between bites. Soon enough, he was much more relaxed, giggly- accepting the freedom that remained in his dreams.

Setting the tray to the side, Siegfried unclasped his cape, throwing it over a chair, taking off his boots and vest as well, joining the black mass on the chair.

He climbed onto the bed, moving close to Lancelot. “Now. You know what I desire, correct?”

“Y-you need to be specific, Siegfried-”

“I want  _ you.” _

A loud gulp wasn't enough to deter Siegfried, that was certain. Lancelot looked up at him, hands fumbling with his waistband. “H-how do you want me?”

“...Like this. I wish to see you.”

“Uh- the oil should be in the drawer-” glancing over, Siegfried had already placed it on top of the bedside table. 

Nothing was going to stop them, huh?

He tried to get himself to calm down, undoing the ties of his pants as he avoided Siegfried's gaze. Apparently that was the incorrect course of action- Siegfried batting his hands away from his clothes. 

Looking down at him, Siegfried closed the distance, cupping his cheek as they kissed. They kissed like proper lovers, not like partners of convenience or necessity.  Lancelot sucked on his tongue with a hunger, arms draping around his chest, palms pressed against shoulder blades. Siegfried returned that affection, gently nipping at his tongue, a hand running through soft, dark hair.

Gasping for air, Lancelot gripped at his lover- he wanted to feel their lips together again- as soon as he could. Siegfried licked his lips, a hand unbuttoning his shirt. 

“I can do that-”

“No, just lay back, Beloved. I can take care of everything.”

The nickname pounded upon the shell of his heart. He swallowed, nerves trembling as Siegfried carefully pushed his light shirt over his head, hands drawing down his pale chest.

“Don't just stand there! It's cold!” Lancelot huffed. He was nowhere near as mad as he acted, warm breath brushing over a nipple making him jump.

“Then I shall warm you up.”

‘Be careful what you wish for’ was something Lancelot was sure he should be taking into greater consideration. A wet, loving kiss to his neck caused an extremely unsightly squeak to escape him, the sounds quickly melting into pleased breaths and soft moans. His head was fuzzy and everything felt unbelievably warm- being under someone else's mercy felt so, so good.

He couldn't help but slide his likely freezing hands under Siegfried's shirt, if only to touch the illusion of muscle. Siegfried sighed, moving closer to him as he layered more kisses upon his neck. 

Siegfried's voice rumbled in his chest, seeping through Lancelot's very skin and bone. “Beautiful…”

Arguing such praise was fruitless, and he needed to make himself realize that it was safe to indulge in such things- no one would hurt him for enjoying the love of another in this realm of dreams. 

No one would hurt him for being in love.

Their lips met again, exchanging something words could not express as Siegfried removed his heavy shirt, bearing his scars to Lancelot. 

This was all he could really ask for- anything beyond this was selfish, and regardless, all he could have ever wanted was something as simple as this. Knowing that someone loved him. Not as a brother or a knight or as a dear friend but as an  _ equal.  _

Heat from another body, never sleeping alone, a hand to wipe sleep and tears from his eyes. Someone for him to love and care for and knowing that they will do the same of him in return. 

He wanted to stop the endless days droning, grating rain. He wanted to believe in something that wasn't the rattlings on of old men with power. Colors dancing on walls painted by the underbellies of society should not haunt him- they should be a celebration of human creation.

Hands moving down his chest, toying with a leather tie should not be figments of a dream- love should not be something he could only obtain in fantasies far separated from reality. 

“You know my adoration knows no bounds, correct?”

If Siegfried continued he was going to tear up- but he couldn't afford to do that. His pants finally slipped away, Siegfried tugging them down, fingertips idly brushing down tendons. 

“I am- aware-”

“Are you truly?”

The question caught him off guard- as these questions tended to do. “I truly am aware- and my love is offered to you, in turn!”

Siegfried smiled, eyes warm and honeyed in the candlelight. 

Eyes locked, Lancelot blinked, cheeks burning. 

“You know… perhaps it be best if you return the oil to its home.”

“W-why?!”

“I think… Seeing you like this shall be enough for me.”

Brows furrowed, he did as he was told, squirming out from under Siegfried’s grip and placing the oil back in its drawer. Moments before he turned to face his lover again, large arms drew him closer, pulling him back onto the bed.

“Hey!” Lancelot squacked- although it didn't do much. Siegfried had him in a vice grip, pressing an innumerable amount of kisses to his head and neck. “Siegfried Sir, that- Tickles!”

“I'm just Siegfried now… No titles in the bedroom.”

“Are you  _ sure?”  _ He teased, turning around in his lovers grip. “Last time I checked, you quite  _ enjoyed  _ being called-”

Siegfried cut him off with a kiss- soft and sweet, before pulling away, a smile still drawn upon his lips. “Hmm? What was that you were saying?”

“That you liked being called-”

Another kiss- hands moving down his chest.

Pulling away for air, Siegfried's hair was quickly returning to a more familiar state of disarray. “I didn't quite catch that Dearest.”

As much as he tried to puff up and act mad, the grin that pulled on his lips won over. “ _ My Lord- _ ”

Cutting him off yet again, Lancelot took the opportunity to dramatically run his icy hands down Siegfried’s back.

To his surprise, the man jumped a bit. “You most certainly need to warm those up…”

“Hmmm? Do I now?~”

Pulling the hands from his back, Siegfried laced their fingers together. “Perhaps this should suffice?” 

Gazing at one another, lovingly, longingly- before erupting into light hearted laughter like teenagers. There was no cause or rhyme or reason- simply  _ action.  _

Simply  _ love.  _

Something he would never obtain, something he may never feel reciprocated. Or at least, not in the manner he desired. 

“Are you tired, Beloved?”

Lancelot turned to him “...I  _ did  _ sleep all day… But if it's with you…”

“You are willing to make an exception?”

“I am indeed- not take your pants off, they're scratching my legs.”

Siegfried probably mumbled something about how fussy he was, although there was no bite to his statement. Another way of showing how he cared. “Is this much better suited to your tastes?”

Climbing back into bed with him, Siegfried pulled them together, their legs intertwining.

“Much better.”

He was about to close his eyes and allow himself to fall asleep- return to the reality he so despised. Perhaps the dream would continue this time- into a realm he wouldn't remember when he awoke.

“Lancelot.”

Perking up, Lancelot looked up at Siegfried. “Yes?”

“...I love you.”

Blood pounding in his ears and throat in a vice he tried to stammer out something- but his mind could only find a way to say only one thing.

“I love you too.”

And then it faded- as quickly as it began.

Covered in sweat, he awoke- hips rutting against a pillow he was clutching like he might die without it.

His shirt clung to his back, tears pooling by his eyes. Teeth digging into the pillow, he attempted to restrain his fury. 

He wanted his heart to burst from his chest, blood to spill upon the already soiled sheets. 

Why? Why did it always need to be this way? Why must he be denied the one thing that could have brought him true comfort?

What else did he have to turn upon? Should he fill the void in his heart with wine and empty intimacy? Should he retire and become a stain upon the history of Feendrache? A proud knight that fell down the path to hell and became a sodomizer? A letch? 

The future lay before him empty and uncertain and this feeling was of his own creation but that did not make the pain any less real. The future was uncertain with everyone- but most of them had at least someone to hold onto, and who in return would hold onto them. He could not guarantee that Vane would risk his life for him the same way he would risk it for Percival. 

That was not his choice to make- who was he to intrude upon the love of others to make himself feel more important?

Icy stone bit at his feet as he walked to the dying fire, throwing some twigs upon it and hoping for the best. A few gold coins left on the bedside table should help take the edge off of cleaning the sheets.

Clothes thrown in a pile, he cleaned himself off the best he could, strapping his armour on with a practiced efficiency.

He wished it was not his hands that tightened every buckle and brace.

But that dream would never come to fruition, as dreams tended to do. Donning his cloak, the church bells sang into a weeping sky.

And he faced reality yet again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment or Kudo!
> 
> I have a [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ConfuzzledSheep?lang=en) as well!!


End file.
